The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-02-26
WORKOUT HANDS.

We can see them every day. Poor,
wornout hands, trembling, wrinkled and
unsightly; yet to me how beautiful they
arel They have done go much. Their
loving work began in infancy. That was
many, many years ago, when they, too,
were dimpled and white. What tiny
hands they we're thenl
But We find it hard to believe that
grandma ever was a baby. We can hard
ly picture her in the dainty robes she
must have worn. Still, she had her niche
in the happy household, and filed it after
her own perfect baby fashion. Father
and mother both felt the tender touch of
her soft, caressing fingers. The former
went forth to his daily toll with renewed
strength and courage, and the latter's
added duties only seemed to grow lighter
as the days flew by.
Baby grew fast. A few years later,
what busy little hands she had They
were thrust into everything, and if de-
struction followed, "helping mamma" was
the sweet excuse which always shielded
their pretty owner. But soon they were
a help indeed; always willing and ready.
Alb, what busy hands they were!
And they we're destined to become still
dearer. Only few more years, and then
an impatient lover had circled one slen-
der finger with golden engagement
ring. They seemed the warmest hands
he had ever clasped. Love was the only
matchmaker, and their marriage quickly
followed. Charles would have his way
How they missed her-father mother,
brothers and sisters = when those dear
hands had vanished to deity make ready
the new home nest They beautifed it
until the proud young husband thought
there could be no lovelier spot in all the
wide, wide world.
Another year; they were netherlands
then, and their real life-work had just be-
guD, and, if possible, they were more dill
igent than ever before. They even found
time for other work outside the little
home. The needy, sick and afflicted were
helped in a thousand different ways.
| AASy WOW OCACFOlOAb udlQS
And years OF peace, happiness and
prosperity we're given them in return.
Twice had the cozy bone been enlarged;
the loved faces God had sent filed it TO
OVERLOOKING.
After time one left it never to return.
How the patient, plying netherlands
lowered round that dear one in the last
sad hour They tremblingly closed the
sightless eyes, gathered sweet, fresh roses
to lay on the downy pillow, tenderly
raised the coffin-lid for one last look, and,
! finally, planted vines and flowers on the
, newly-made grave. After that the home
J.. work went on as usual, only there was
one less to do for. How strange it seemed
One by one the others also left her
side; the boys to make their way in the
great Babylon called town, and the girls
to exchange the old home for new ones
|. here and there. So mothers hands fond
, ly prepared each outfit as it was needed;
knitting stockings and making bridal
| robes we're all the same to her.
Then, after thirty years Of earnest, low
ing toll, her tired hands took little
, needed rest. All the children had gone
, from her. There was only husband to
care for now, and his wants were go few
{ in comparison with what theirs had been!
{ Her tender, wifely hands often fingered
, lovingly on his head. Poor Charles! His
/ once thick, black hair was now thin and
r gray. He was growing old; but surely
, he was now dearer than ever. The chill
: dren could live without her. As in the
beginning, he was again her ALL
> But ten years later he was taken from
) her. Oh, the agony of that parting! His
/ dying kiss fell on the dear, tear-wet hands
that had always scattered flowers along
his life-path. They fashioned his shroud.
| She would not suffer strange hand to
} perform that last sad service Soon he
| peacefully slept in the little village
church-yard and she all alone in the old
} nest. How empty it was! Her hands are
) quite idle now. No work to do, no loved
J ones to wait upon. Only self left.
{ At her fearful request, one Chad, a
daughter, returned, bringing with her
) five fatherless little ones. Then grandma
, gladly took up the broken threads OF her
, life work. There was still so much to be
| done. 1t seemed as though all her chill
dren were back again. She knew just
, what to do for them. Their many child
, ish wants and necessities were to her an
open book, which she read with delight.
Little Charles was grandpa's namesake
How she loved the bonny BOY
But at last the grandchildren left home,
just as her own had done. Grandma'e
loving farewell followed them like bless
ing. They can never forget her.
She is almost ninety now. There she
sits in the roomy rocking chair in which
dear grandpa died thirty long years ago
Soon she will join him in heaven. Her
work is all done; she is only waiting.
Poor uOrno,,k n no md 1ioaaea